


Fear Me, You Lords And Lady Preachers

by ElizabethOlsenIsMySpiritAnimal



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Captivity, Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Darth Vader Redemption, Developing Relationship, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Forced Orgasm, Forced Relationship, Impregnation, Jealousy, Minor Violence, Multi, Obsession, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Queen (Band) References, Rape/Non-con Elements, Relationship Negotiation, Rough Sex, Seven Seas Of Rhye, Sex, The Author Regrets Everything, Threesome - F/F/M, Title from a Queen Song, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Sex, Victim Blaming, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21544963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethOlsenIsMySpiritAnimal/pseuds/ElizabethOlsenIsMySpiritAnimal
Summary: Cal Kestis is many things.Survivor. Scrapper. Jedi Knight. Semi-unwilling plaything of Trilla Suduri and Nightsister Merrin.It's that last one that's important, though. The rest comes with the territory of being a Jedi in the time of the Empire.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Merrin, Cal Kestis/Second Sister, Cal Kestis/Trilla Suduri, Cal Kestis/Trilla Suduri/Merrin, Trilla Suduri/Merrin
Comments: 203
Kudos: 393





	1. Before You, Naked To The Eye

**Author's Note:**

> I should say something, but I really have nothing to say other than that I shouldn't listen to Queen and read Wookiepedia in the middle of the night.
> 
> So here we go, motherfuckers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cal Kestis frustrates Trilla Suduri. 
> 
> Cal Kestis impresses Trilla Suduri. 
> 
> Cal Kestis fascinates Trilla Suduri.
> 
> Cal Kestis captivates Trilla Suduri. 
> 
> Cal Kestis belongs to Trilla Suduri.

//

_**(Obsession / Study Time / Mine)** _

//

When Cal Kestis escapes Trilla Suduri on Bracca, her first emotion is frustration.

Prey...prey cannot be allowed to escape the hunter. The master does not permit it. And yet...she has to admit, it was a skillful escape. Twas not sheer luck or trickery - though admittedly, those may have been factors, but not the most important ones - with which he escaped, but skill. Meager skill, but skill nonetheless. Here, she thought it was a simple matter to eliminate the Jedi, an open and close case. Ninth had apparently done her job, after all, tossing him over the side of that cliff...and yet, he’d lived. 

So naturally, she’d tried to kill him, and that was when she learned that it wouldn’t be as simple as the previous hunts had been. He’d fought back - landed a good hit or two, to be perfectly honest - and then he’d escaped aboard that ship of his. She’d pursued, of course, and they’d fought over the controls via the Force, and then, in the most outrageous turn of events considered possible, he’d wrested them back and escaped her grasp. 

It’s fascinating.

She hasn’t had a good hunt before. They’ve all been rather...unsatisfying. To be fair, any prey worth pursuing is long dead now. The masters of the fallen Order, the more powerful knights, all dead, the only ones left being scattered padawans and younglings. To see one of them, even a young one like that frustrating boy, put up more than a token fight is invigorating. Her heart quickens at the thought of prey that actually fights back for a change, of a hunt worth her time.

It’s a sweet feeling, the anticipation of a worthy hunt.

//

As any good hunter would, Trilla Suduri studies her prey.

Cal Kestis is - was - the padawan of Jaro Tapal, who died as so many others did when Order 66 when enacted. He was - right up until the whole revelation of his Jedi heritage thing - a nondescript worker in a salvage yard, and frankly, had he not done the noble thing and saved a fellow worker of his from dying, he could’ve easily gone his whole life without being noticed by the Empire.

Foolish, foolish boy. But he’s young, it’s forgivable. He’ll learn, once he’s hers.

Trilla spends hours studying his face, memorizing every detail. His eyes, his hair, she commits it all to memory. To pick him out in a crowd, of course. Not that she wouldn’t be able to, but it’s always good to know everything about one’s prey, especially one so interesting as his. Though admittedly, Cal’s life - at least, from what she can gleam off of the old Order’s records and interrogated colleagues - isn’t particularly interesting. He was your average padawan and your average worker, he hardly had a storied life of trial and tribulation - present issues excepted - and yet she drinks in his biography all the same. 

When they fight again, she relishes it.

He has grown in skill - honed by whatever battles he has fought since their last meeting - and is a much more formidable target to fight. Good. She can fight more freely now, knowing that whatever she throws at him, he’ll probably not die from, or at least, he’ll probably not die from it as easily as he would’ve, back on Bracca. 

At some point, he knocks her helmet off. She doesn’t care if it’s luck or design, because the look in his face makes it all worth it. He’s stunned, his eyes widening slightly as he gazes upon her face. He no doubt expected her to be some inhuman monster, or something of similar caliber, and to be fair, some of her colleagues _are_ monsters through and through. 

But her? She’s a monster with a pretty face.

He lets down his guard for just a second, and its all the time she needs to gain an advantage over him - unfortunately stolen away by that robotic ally of his, no matter - before she bolts. She doesn’t like running away from prey, but for Cal, she’ll make an exception.

Anything to see that look in his eyes. 

//

The next time they meet, Trilla brings the hunt to a close.

This is what, the third time they’ve fought? Fourth? What does it matter, it’s a fight, and that’s kind of what matters in these parts. Cal swings for the fences - and bravely so at that - and calls himself _persistent._ He’s not wrong, and from the records Trilla has found, he’s definitely had that stubborn streak since he was a little boy. Still, stubbornness does not make up for the fact that his skill is unrefined - powerful, but sloppy - and he - like all prey - makes a fatal mistake.

He grabs her lightsaber.

That particular blade, that _thing,_ has a history, and an ugly one at that, and as Cal falls over, barraged by the memories it holds, Trilla strikes. She seizes the holocron from him, not that it matters at the moment, and tucks it away. What’s really important is right in front of her, reeling from the backlash of the cursed blade he holds. So, she does what she’s long since wanted to do…

...and pins Cal to the ground.

The blade - his and hers alike - fall somewhere uselessly, and Trilla yanks off her helmet, staring at that frustrating boy with amusement dancing in her eyes. He looks like he’s coming out of a bad dream, and as he catches sight of her, teeth bared and a wicked smile across her face, she strikes. 

She slams her lips into his, drives him back onto the ground. Cal’s breath is stolen away, the strength in his limbs suddenly abandoning him, and Trilla presses her advantage. She tears his clothes from him, piece by piece, and leaves him stunned as she gropes at his body, hungrily taking in what she’s been obsessed with for ages.

Cal attempts to fight back, briefly, anyways. Trilla is having none of that, and she slams him back into the round with the Force. “Mine.” She hisses out, taking a moment to get rid of her own clothes, setting them down in a chaotic pile just nearby. “Mine.” She repeats, taking note of the way Cal’s body turns on him the moment he registers her naked presence. As she observes the erection he sports at the sight of her body, she takes a moment to entertain the mindset he must be in. He’s caught in that strange little place that most - well, maybe all - prey get caught in when the hunter has them trapped, a heady mix of fear and arousal. He wants this, and yet he doesn’t.

Fortunately, she knows just how to convince him.

There’s no time for more subtle things, like say, foreplay, or whatever the hell one calls the thing that loving couples do. It’s all animalistic lust right now, as far as Trilla’s concerned. She wants Cal, she will have him, she will take what she wants from him and that will be the end of it. With that in mind, she aligns her pussy with his cock and lowers herself atop him in an instant. 

God, he feels better than she could’ve imagined.

Cal reacts - how could he not - almost immediately. She doubts he’s done this before, the life he led isn’t exactly conducive to it, and that makes her smile. She’s his first, and if she isn’t, well, woe betide the partner - or partners - he may have had, should she ever learn their names. She dispenses with any sort of grace, replacing it with lust, pure lust, and bounces atop him with the kind of joy expected in a hunter enjoying the spoils of victory, the vanquished prey. 

His moans are music to her ears, the little, tiny feeble struggles both amusing and arousing her. Trilla wants him to struggle, she wants him to try holding off, wants to feel his last little bit of defiance crumble as he gives into his baser instincts and submits to her. His eyes are wide, and a free hand comes up to cup his face, a thumb brushing just underneath one of them, a mockery of a lover’s touch. She kisses him, again and again, savoring his taste, breathing in his scent, enjoying his touch.

As the minutes tick by, during which nothing but the sound of their bodies colliding - and their vocalizations of such - fill the air, Trilla at last feels him stiffen beneath her, no doubt on the cusp of submitting to her entirely. He doesn’t want this, he _really_ doesn’t, and yet, somehow, he does. Once, twice, his cock twitches, and then he gives in entirely, moaning in defeat as he cums, hard and deep inside of her wetness, giving her everything she’s ever wanted. With satisfaction - and joy - filling her mind, Trilla brings up her other hand to caress the face of her prey, of her toy, of _her_ prize.

“Mine.” She whispers, and kisses him fierce. “All mine.”

As Cal slowly recovers, begins to accept who he now belongs to, Trilla finds herself wondering what their children - their family - will look like.

//


	2. You Are Mine, I Possess You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trilla and Cal try for kids. Properly, this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your fucking second chapter, bitches. Enjoy.

//

_**(I Get Wet)** _

//

When Cal Kestis wakes, he has the feeling that something is wrong.

For one, he’s naked, he likes to think he knows enough about himself to tell when he’s wearing clothes, two, the ceiling that greets him definitely isn’t that of the Mantis, and third and most importantly of all, there’s someone in bed with him, if the breath at his back, the arm wrapped around his frame and the hair brushing against his skin is any indication. 

“Good morning, Cal.”

Scratch that, Cal _knows_ something is _very_ wrong. There’s only one person with that voice, and he knows for a fact that said person is hell-bent on dismembering, decapitating, disintegrating or defenestrating his wonderfulness into the nearest bottomless chasm, and to hear it so close-

“Did you sleep well?”

-brings back memories of what happened the _last_ time he heard it. Memories, like seeing one’s Instagram feed after a wild party in which one blacked out at, come rushing back into his head, and he remembers seeing horrific visions of the past, the sensation of being thrown to the ground, the sound of ripping cloth, and then pleasure, pure, unadulterated pleasure, courtesy of-

“-Trilla.” He gasps.

The Second Sister _giggles,_ which is an entirely frightening and ever-so-slightly alluring sound, almost musical in tone, accentuated by her accent. Raven hair falls around amused eyes, and Trilla Suduri sees fit to greet him with a kiss. Barely awake, the soft collision does much to jolt him back to the land of the living, and he immediately attempts to break free of her grasp.

It doesn’t work.

“Oh, Cal, you silllyhead.” Chides Trilla, as she shifts her weight and slides back atop him - letting him know that _she_ is also naked - and lowers herself back down, her hands gripping his wrists and pinning his arms squarely to the bed. “Do you honestly think you could escape me?” She smirks, a soft little _tut-tut-tut_ noise emanating from her. “I think not.” She adds rhetorically.

“W-what have you done?” Cal asks, as Trilla dives in for another kiss. He tilts his head away, and with an amused noise she tilts his head back with the Force, allowing her to catch his errant lips.

“Not much.” She says. “I bested you - not that it was hard to do so - and then I enjoyed my victory and brought you here, so I could enjoy it further.”

“You raped me.” Cal bites back, the memory of her riding him making him bristle, and Trilla rolls her eyes almost immediately.

“You enjoyed it.” She says, a dark shadow passing over her face for the barest of seconds, which is enough to cause Cal’s would-be rage to shrivel back in fear. Naked or not, she holds all the cards here, he knows that much. “Don’t think I didn’t feel you react to me touching you. I felt you give in, felt you lose yourself inside of me. You _loved_ it.” She hisses, as she leans down and kisses him again. “Just as you’re going to enjoy _this.”_

Cal freezes, and a pair of cuffs come out, neatly binding his hands together, and then those cuffs are linked against the bed, holding him still. Trilla pulls away from him, hands going up to touch herself. “Our first was special, in its own way.” She says, a hand lingering across her stomach for the briefest of moments. “But...well, I think you’d rather be very cognizant for this one.” With that, her hands move downwards, cupping his cock. “You _will_ break for me.” She finishes.

“Never.” Cal gasps, as one hand cups his balls, the other his length, and Trilla begins to stroke and caress, lips pursing at his proclamation - which had sounded weak, even to him - before they curl up into an amused smile. 

“Never say never, my sweet little pet.” Trilla hums, as she coaxes the redhead’s cock to full attention. “Especially not to me. I hunted you across the stars, breaking you in will be easy.” She punctuates each word with a stroke of his length, watching as the defiance in his eyes crumbles ever so slightly with each pump of her wrist. “I know what boys like you want, _need,_ crave.” Her eyes meet his, and she narrows them slightly, letting the look in her eyes say it all. “You can claim you’ll never break, claim whatever you want...in the end, you’ll beg to be mine.” 

Returning to the stroking of Cal’s cock, the room falls silent. Trilla can hear Cal’s heartbeat, his breath, and she knows that slowly, what she’s doing is working. Each stroke of her hand, every touch of her fingertips, it wears down on him, just a bit. Slowly, he starts to moan, and the look in his eyes begins to shift, defiance being replaced with lust. 

“Tell me, Cal. How many partners have you had?” She asks, with an almost conversational ease. When he doesn’t answer, she stops her ministrations. “Answer me, pet, or I’ll not stroke you anymore.”

“...none.” He squeaks out, after two minutes without her touch pass. 

“Good, I shan’t have to be killing anyone, then. Saves me some time.” The Inquisitor murmurs idly, as she nods her thanks and resumes the stroking. Step one...accomplished. Already, Cal is starting to break. Men like him are all the same, they claim they’re tough, able to withstand anything, and indeed, they can, a knife in the back, a burning iron to the skin...all of that can be withstood. But pleasure? Oh, every man craves pleasure, will do _anything_ for more, if their steady stream of it is interrupted.

And Cal is no different.

“Have you ever kissed? Known the beauty of a woman’s touch before mine?” Trilla asks, and Cal shakes his head. Typical Jedi, she thinks with derision. “That makes me _very_ happy.” She says, and she shifts positions, lying on her stomach, mouth hovering above his cock. “It means I’m your first...and your last, if you know what’s good for you.” And with that, she takes his cock into her mouth.

If his reaction to her pussy was one thing, this is another entirely. Cal gasps, head craning up from his spot to stare at her. She shrugs her shoulders and begins sucking, using one hand to steady herself on the bed, the other to pump the base of his shaft. She hears him moan, audibly this time, and she counts that as a victory. 

She sucks away at his cock, the soft, wet noises of her lips on his length the only noise that fills the air - though, Cal is starting to moan, more frequently now - he hides it, of course, tries to stifle it, but she knows he’s enjoying this. Good boy, she muses, as she looks up at him, staring at his face, the way the look on his visage has become one of reluctant desire. He doesn’t last long - of course he wouldn’t, not like this - and when Cal cums and fills her mouth with his seed, Trilla is prepared. She moans and takes his sperm in her mouth, swallowing what he gives her, which is a lot. 

He’s a virile lover - good - they’re going to have a large family, and it’ll serve him well in the siring of such.

Pulling away from his cock, Trilla lets the last of his cum paint her face, and she rises from her spot on the bed, letting him see the way his essence coats her tongue, drips from her lips and paints her cheeks. She crawls the length of the bed and draws close to him, letting him see his handiwork. She makes a flourish out of swallowing his cum. “Did you enjoy that?” She asks, a hand tracing a line across his throat as a subtle-ish reminder that he should answer.

“Y...yes.” He says, shame lacing his voice, and she smiles.

“See? What’d I tell you.” Trilla murmurs, leaning down and giving him a kiss, forcing him to taste himself. Cal moans, though why she doesn’t know - or bother to care - and as she pulls back, she notes that he’s erect again. “God...you’re such a good boy.” She says, aligning her pussy with his cock, almost by instinct. “Getting hard just for me...and _only_ me.” With a pleased sigh, she slides onto his length, bracing her hands against his chest and moaning a very, very happy moan.

“Do you know-” She begins, as she rocks her hips, letting Cal’s cock slide across her cunt. “-that I’m not on any birth control?” 

As far as attention-grabbers go, that one’s on par with shouting “Fuck Trump” at a Republican convention or playing a singular G-key piano note in a room full of emos. Cal’s slightly stunned, post-orgasm expression immediately shifts into one of horror, and Trilla waves it off. “Oh, relax, my pet.” She says. “You already came in me, remember? This is just to make sure that I get nice and knocked up with your babies.”

For the briefest of moments - brief because even now, Trilla has the presence of mind to put down any escape attempts - Cal struggles, but a combination of the Force and her body has him stopping. “Ah, ah, ah.” She says. “You are going to stay right there, like a good boy, and give me _all_ of your cum. We-” Her lips dart downwards, and she presses a kiss to Cal’s lips. “-are going to have a family. A _big_ one, starting with the children you sire today.” 

“No, no no-” Cal begins, and Trilla simply kisses him again, cutting him off.

“Yes, yes, _yes.”_ She counters, as she grinds against him, pressing against his body and encouraging his cock to go deeper. “We are going to have kids, Cal, whether you like it or not.” She pauses, and a little smirk criss-crosses her face. “Though going by the way you’re reacting, it seems that you actually _like_ the idea of being a father.” At her words, Cal realizes with belated horror that he has been thrusting into Trilla’s wet cunt, and for a moment, he tries to stop, but at another one of her own movements, he thrusts back, causing her to moan triumphantly. “Keep going, pet.” She hisses. “Just give in.” 

Cal shakes his head, shuddering, and Trilla’s hands clasp his face, keeping him from moving. “What’s wrong with being a father?” She asks, tapping his cheek, keeping his attention on her. “It’s so much better than being a fugitive, I’ll tell you that. You won’t have to risk your neck doing dumb things in the name of pointless rebellion, all you’ll have to do is take care of our kids.” She kisses him again, bouncing atop his cock for emphasis. 

“I-I don’t want-” He begins, and Trilla sighs, clasps a hand over his mouth.

“-yes, yes, I know.” She growls, basking in the sudden spike of fear that emanates from him. “You’re a Jedi padawan, you serve my failure of a master, you hate the Empire, want to topple it, blah blah blah. Let me be clear, that whole Resistance Fighter lifestyle is over. You are mine, and you _will_ accept your place as such. Mmkay?”

Nod.

“Good.” Trilla says, letting her hand move away from his mouth, letting him breathe - and moan - freely. “Now be a good boy, and put some babies inside of me.” To his credit, Cal begins to thrust, likely out of fear as opposed to actual desire, but Trilla knows he’ll give into his baser instincts and start _genuinely_ thrusting sooner or later. Some part of him _likes_ being claimed by someone, and well, if this isn’t claiming, what is? Running a free hand across Cal’s neck, Trilla hums. “If you’re a good pet, and we have boys...I’ll let you name them.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she lets the thought sit. “I get to name the girls, though. I have a few ideas on that.” 

Cal makes a noise, one that suggests he isn’t entirely opposed to the idea. Sighing fondly, Trilla relaxes her grip, just a bit, letting the redhead move a little more freely. He’s thrusting of his own volition now, and that makes her smile. He’s giving into her desires, letting his will be subsumed by hers. “Oh, you want to be a good pet now?” She asks, and he nods. 

“T-Trilla-” Cal gasps. “-please-”

“Please _what?”_ She asks, tilting her head slightly as she dives in for another kiss. 

“Don’t hurt my friends...and I’ll do whatever you want.” He says.

Pursing her lips as she contemplates the offer, Trilla hums her agreement. “I can work with that.” She says, swiftly taking advantage of his Jedi-induced nobility. “The lives and freedom of your friends will be theirs to keep...so long as you remain _mine.”_

And with that, she ups the ante.

Satisfied that Cal won’t try some underhanded trick to escape, Trilla lets herself cut loose. She arches her back, braces herself against the bed and _rides_ her prey with gusto. She matches Cal’s every thrust with one of her own, lets moans slip from her at a constant velocity, the works. The effect on the redhead is immediate, as he basically just gives up attempting to hold onto whatever little pride he has left, and a wave of lust fills her senses. He wants her, needs her, and he’s finally done denying that holy shit fuck yes does he want Trilla Suduri.

“Triplets.” He gasps, and when Trilla furrows her brow, he repeats himself. “I wanna have triplets this round.” 

“Daring today, are we?” She says, the thought of bearing not one, but _three_ kids for her first pregnancy all but making her mouth water. “You must really wanna be a daddy.”

“I like a good challenge.” Cal clips, some of his self-confidence bleeding back into him.

“Well, with any luck, I’ll give you _exactly_ what you want.” Trilla says, feeling his cock twitch inside of her. “Getting close, pet? Ready to make me a mommy?”

Cal nods.

“Then cum.” She commands, kissing him once, twice, once again. “Give me your babies, Cal. Come on, come on, now now _now-”_

A second later, Trilla feels Cal hit his peak, his orgasm knocking her into her own. His orgasmic moan mixes with hers, and she all but pounces on him, slamming her lips into his and pressing him into the bed, _hard._ She rides Cal harder than she ever has - admittedly, they haven’t had a lot of time for that, whatever - milking him for every drop he has. She pours an image of herself - pregnant with his kids, of course - into his mind, and if anything, Cal seems to cum _harder,_ shaking as he coats her pussy in his seed. 

“Fuck, yes…” She gasps.

As they come down from their highs, the remnants of their respective orgasms bleeding into the air around them, Trilla slumps onto Cal with a sated, happy sigh. Somehow, she just _knows_ she’s conceived, and though she can’t tell how many kids her newfound pet - lover, perhaps - has given her, she knows she’s gotten _exactly_ what she wants. “Oh, Cal…” She gasps.

And that’s when the comm on the other side of the room chimes.

Summoning it to her hand immediately, Trilla sets it to audio only, motions for Cal to be silent, and answers it. “Speak.” She growls into the accursed thing, wondering who _dares_ interrupt her intimate time.

“Inquisitor-” Goes a voice, one of the bridge officers. “-we jumped out of hyperspace-”

“Ready my personal shuttle.” She says immediately, mind drawing up plans to deal with reporting to her superiors. Cal will have to remain up here, of course, lest he be discovered, and well, there will probably be consequences for not showing up with him. But that’s where the holocron comes into play-

“-about fifteen minutes ago.” 

“-what?!” Trilla demands, panic sparking in her spine, all remaining traces of arousal fleeing the room at lightspeed. She can feel the comm begin to crack ever so slightly from the force of gripping it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You weren’t responding-” Goes a particularly suicidal bridge officer. “-and a shuttle carrying Lord V-” Trilla crushes the comm in her hands, the shattered remnants falling to the floor as she feels her breath hitch, her blood turn to ice- 

-and as if on cue, the door opens, and Darth Vader walks in.

//


	3. Who Dares Abuse My Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Vader freaks the fuck out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY IN GOD'S GREEN EARTH CAN I DO THIS BUT NOT MY OVERLY-LENGTHY WANDA MAXIMOFF GANGBANG STORY? WHY?
> 
> Loljk why am I complaining I love Cal and Trilla and I love writing for them, even if Wanda is ~~my baby girl precious waifu love of my life~~ super awesome and easily my favorite person to write for like ever.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy.

//

_**(A Hymn Called Faith And Misery / Bitches Gots No Breeches / Whatsername)** _

//

There was a dreadful, ghastly silence.

Staring upon the sight of the Second Sister, butt-naked, straddling a boy he was pretty sure he’d put out a kill-capture order for, Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, Right Hand of the Emperor and Slayer of the Jedi, found himself in a strange little state he didn’t exactly like to be in-

-which was flabbergasted.

Admittedly, one could’ve said _stunned_ or _surprised,_ but really, the sight of one of his personal hunters atop her prey - and not in the _I’m on top of you so I can stab you with this knife I have here_ kind of way, but the _sexytimes_ kind of way - all but required the use of the word flabbergasted. Anyways, as he stared at the duo with the kind of levity usually reserved for sitting through board meetings with overly pedantic old women seeking to rediscover their youth, all Vader could think was one little mantra that he’d so often repeated to himself in service to the Empire.

_At least I’m not Tarkin._

As what she was pretty sure was the source of her impending death stared at them with that eyeless gaze of his, Trilla Suduri found herself wondering if she should just wait for the blade to come down on her head or just summon it to her and do the Dark Lord’s job for her. As it was, she never got the chance, because Vader-

“What in the _flying fuck_ is going on in here?!”

-overreacted, as was per usual. As the Sith Lord began flailing an arm in their direction in what was definitely not a Sith-like manner, Trilla’s brain finally engaged the controls, and she began spouting whatever could possibly come to mind. 

“I was conducting an interrogation!” She said, the words sounding hollow even to her. Rather than backtrack, or do anything else, for that matter, Cal joined in.

“Yeah, that’s what she was doing! I’m totally being interrogated here.” Said the redhead, and, with nothing left to lose, Trilla smacked him.

“Quiet, rebel scum.” She said, straightening up and doing her best to act dignified and Inquisitorially, which, in retrospect, wasn’t entirely easy to do when one was stark naked and marked with sweat and cum. “Yes, that was what I was doing. I was interrogating the prisoner.”

“Naked?” Vader asked, raising what would’ve been an eyebrow, had he still had one, behind his mask on subconscious reflex.

“Yes. Because he is a very dangerous fugitive who is extremely crafty. Clearly, he could not be trusted with anything, and to prevent him from seizing something and escaping, I chose to conduct his interrogation in a similar state of undress.” Lied Trilla.

“And you’re doing it in your room, and not the prison block?” Went a Dark Lord that was somehow conveying _I know you’re lying, you know I know you’re lying, but you know what, keep talking, it’s amusing_ and _I need a drink, many drinks_ in that masked monotone of his.

“Well, my quarters are very heavily guarded, and the cell block seemed so...counterintuitive to my methods of interrogation.” Trilla chirped. “He is a dangerous fugitive after all, and could’ve rallied the other prisoners to help him break out.”

“There are no other prisoners on the ship.” Vader deadpanned.

“...I wanted to handle his interrogation personally?” Trilla ventured, smiling a nervous smile.

“You could’ve easily done that in the cell block.” Vader said. 

“He killed an Inquisitor, and therefore a bunch of stormtroopers are inadequate security?” Went a now _very_ desperate Second Sister.

“Killing the Ninth Sister is sort of like drop-kicking a youngling over the side of the Imperial Palace, even a blind one-armed hobo could do it.” Said Vader. Behind Trilla, Cal bristled at the statement, no doubt having taken _great_ pride in besting the second-least competent member of the Inquisitors.

“None of this is working, is it?” Trilla groused, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Do you think I’m as stupid as the Grand Inquisitor?” Asked a now _very_ amused Sith Lord.

“...I was kind of hoping, yes.” Trilla said, hopping off the bed and standing tall, ready to face her fate, naked as she was. “If you’re going to kill me, of which I have no doubt you will, I stand ready to accept all due punishment for my actions-”

“And why-” Vader asked, waving a hand in her direction. “-would I do that? You have brought Cal Kestis before me, as I ordered.”

“I also brought the holocron.” Trilla said. “It’s over there somewhere.” Gesturing with a hand, Vader pulled the holocron - and made a pointed effort to ignore how it came flying out of the aforementioned Inquisitor’s _panties_ \- and examined it for a long, long moment. “Inside is a list of every single Force-sensitive child catalogued by the Jedi Order before their destruct-”

An ignited lightsaber cut the holocron into pieces.

“Oh, how clumsy of me.” Vader said. “Looks like the Emperor won’t be getting any more Inquisitors, thank fuck. Imagine the catastrophe if he pulled an _apprentice_ out of that rabble. Now-” Turning his attention to Cal, Vader pointedly ignored the state of undress he was in. “-we need to do something about _him.”_

“He’s mine.” Trilla cut in, standing in front of Vader, shielding Cal with her body. “He belongs to me now. I...I shan’t let you touch him.” 

Vader sighed.

“I was not intending on shanking him.” Said the Sith. “I was thinking that if we could covertly get him down to the cell block and make it look like he was a prisoner, you could ostensibly be allowed to-” There was, at that moment, the sound of gunfire, and then a door slid open, and a dead stormtrooper fell through, followed by a pair of women, one with an energy bow, the other with a lightsaber. At the sight of Vader, both came to a complete halt.

“Oh, fuck-” Went the saber-wielding one.

“Cere?” Asked the other one - a Nightsister, if Vader had to guess - as she raised her bow at Vader’s head, bravely attempting to conceal her fear.

“Merrin, get behind me.” Said Cere, raising her blade, and that was about the time that Vader pulled out his own blade.

“Oh look, Rebels.” He said, pointing his saber dramatically in their direction. “Clearly, they must be trying to rescue the prisoner. If only we had moved him to the cell block where they could’ve pulled off their rescue more easily without me around.”

“Cal? Cal, are you there?” Shouted Merrin.

“Uh, yeah, I’m here!” Cal yelled back, excitement springing into his voice at the prospect of rescue, before dying just as quickly as he remembered Vader was still there. “But uh, there’s a Sith in the way!’

“Hang on, it’s gonna be okay!” Cere said, shifting into a combat stance. “Mer, grab Cal. I’ll hold him off.” 

“Over my dead body.” Trilla interjected, stepping out of the doorway with her own lightsaber ignited. Merrin’s aim shifted to her immediately. “Hello, Master.” Trilla said, ignoring the Nightsister. “Prepare to die.”

“Woah, woah woah woah woah!” Cal shouted, rattling the chains as he attempted - and failed - to get off the bed. “You promised not to hurt them!”

“For her, I’m making an exception!” Trilla shouted back.

“Can’t you two talk it out? I feel like it’s a big misunderstanding-” Cal went.

“Did I ask for your opinion on my personal life?” She shouted.

“Seeing as I’m now a big part of it, I think I’m allowed to voice my thoughts on it!” Cal shouted back.

“-yeah well, buzz off! I make the decisions around here, because I’m wearing the pants in this relationship, not you!” Trilla yelled.

“At the moment, you’re not really wearing much of anything-” Cal began.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Vader roared.

Everyone went quiet, all eyes focusing on the Sith Lord in the room, of whom had quite frankly, had it up to _here_ with the drama unfolding before him. “Nobody is gonna die here. At least, not without justifiable cause. And you, Jedi, put that glow-stick down, you’re gonna poke your eye out.” Gesticulating with his free hand, Vader gestured at Trilla. “You. Frankly, you’re a disappointment of an Inquisitor, not as much as the Grand Inquisitor, but still. And you two-” He pointed at Cere and Merrin. “-seriously think you’re gonna get past me?”

“...no…” Said the Nightsister.

“Yeah, that’s right. Uh-huh. That’s what I’m talking about.” Said Vader. “Fortunately for you, I-” He lowered his blade and began backing down the hallway. “-just so happened to be a bit late to your _successful_ attempt at breaking Cal Kestis out. Such a tragedy, the Second Sister defected and helped him escape, coinciding with a daring rescue attempt by his friends, and they all ran away together. We should all be so lucky.”

“...what the fuck?” Merrin asked.

“This is the fuck.” Vader said. “If I were you, I’d be unchaining my butt-naked friend and hauling ass with your newfound ally, and not standing around gaping at how they were totally exemplifying the present state of Imperial-on-Rebel dynamics. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get drunk. Toodles!” 

And with that, Vader rounded the corner and vanished.

“...Okay, what?” Cal asked, and that was about the time that Merrin dashed past a bewildered Trilla and burst into the room, coming to a complete stop at the sight of the redhead’s naked body.

“Mm…well, clearly, you weren’t in much danger.” She said. “Seems like you were enjoying some good-old fashioned Imperial hospitality.” Merrin made an amused hum. “I approve.” She added, as she undid his restraints, an appreciative pair of eyes roaming the naked redhead's body.

“Eyes off my man, tart.” Trilla growled from behind her.

“Trilla…” Cere said.

“What?!” The aforementioned yelled, whirling on her old master. 

“...maybe we should take Lord Vader’s advice and go.” Lowering her blade, she sighed. “I know we have a lot to work through.”

“That’s an understatement.” Cal called out.

“But we should probably do it on the ship, where we’re less likely to get shot by the platoon of stormtroopers that are no doubt going to come after us in about five minutes.” Cere said. After a moment, Trilla nodded, deactivating her blade.

“I suppose I can at least hear you out, if only because it’ll make Cal sad if I don’t.” She said. “Just let me get my stuff. There’s not much, it’ll only take a minute.”

“...and what about me? What am I gonna wear?” Cal shouted.

//

“This is totally embarrassing.”

“I think the color looks good on you.” Trilla said, as they ran down the hallway and towards the airlock where the _Mantis_ was docked, indulging the urge to smile as Cal - clad in a fluffy pink bathrobe and nothing else - ran full-tilt alongside them, lightsaber in hand. “You can keep it if you like.” 

“I think you can have it back.” He said, as he dove into the airlock, following Merrin, with Trilla close behind, Cere bringing up the rear. “Not my style.”

“Greez, take off!” Cere shouted, the hum of the engines her answer as the ship tore off. 

“Where to?” Shouted the Latero.

“Anywhere! Just go!” She said, as the telltale sound of incoming laser fire made itself known.

“Alright, one blind jump, coming up!” A few moments after that, there was the familiar sound of the hyperdrive engaging, and Cere knew from the feel of the Force that the danger was over.

Breathing out, Merrin sat down on a nearby chair. “So...shall we address the elephant in the room?”

“Elephant, what elephant? What’s an elephant?” Greez asked, coming down from the cockpit...and immediately freezing at the sight of Trilla. Cal, still clad in that pink bathrobe, simply gestured at her with a nervous smile.

“It’s a long story.” He said.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Greez deadpanned, backing away slowly. It was then that BD burst into the room, leaping up eagerly towards Cal-

-and accidentally tore the bathrobe clean off.

//

As he watched the _Mantis_ vanish into hyperspace, Vader heard an officer come up behind him.

“Shall we pursue, my Lord?” Asked the nameless figure, and Vader shook his head. 

“No.” He said. “Sooner or later, they will show themselves again. Until then, let them enjoy their victory. It will make them complacent...enough so that we may trap them.” And with that, he swept out of the bridge and headed back to his personal shuttle. Climbing in and setting it to head back to his own ship, Vader pulled out a comm...one definitely not standard-issue for the Imperial Military.

“So...how’d it go?” Asked the person on the other side, a familiar togruta who always brought a smile to his face.

“As expected.” Vader said. “There was a lot of drama, some yelling, a couple of naked people, and they all nearly died-”

The togruta pouted. 

“-but no one did.” He hastily amended. “Well, they might be killing each other now, Trilla Suduri has some bad blood with Cere Junda. Order 66 related stuff, you know how it is.”

“Don’t I ever.” Said the person on the other side. “Now, I believe it’s my turn to do you a favor…”

“Has Obi-Wan agreed to let me see Luke?” Vader asked.

“...he’s still deciding. Remember, the last time he saw you, you were limbless and screaming bloody murder at him. I think he’s still trying to process your change of allegiance.” Said the hologram.

Vader sighed. “Give him as much time as he needs. It is kind of a lot to take in. But at least give him my number so he can talk this out with me over the net or something.”

“Will do! Rex says hi, by the way.” Went the holographic figure, turning to someone offscreen. “I gotta go, Cody’s just put dinner on the table. I’ll catch you some other time. Take care, Skyguy.” Smiling, though the figure wouldn’t have seen it anyways, Vader nodded.

“You too, Snips.” 

//

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving, motherfuckers.


	4. Peers And Privy Counsellors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merrin and Trilla come to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is December, my dudes, and I still have no idea what the fuck I'm doing with this story.

//

_**(AHHHH / Aggressive Negotiations / Because Brazzers, That's Why / And...)** _

//

“Okay, so let me get this straight.”

Greez, owner of the Stinger Mantis, captain of the aforementioned, the best chef this side of the Hydian Way and the self-proclaimed parent of the little ragtag group he had long since decided would be called _Cal Kestis & The Outlaws, _ had the kind of look on his face usually reserved for people who had not so much had a curveball thrown at them but had rather been attacked by a horde of sentient ravenous baseballs out for blood. 

Fools, the lot of them.

“You’re telling me that _you-”_

A hand pointed at Cal, who had at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Key word being _least,_ because after the whole bounty hunter incident, Greez was pretty sure Cal’s respect level for him was hovering somewhere around the level usually used to refer to those weird guys who always knocked on your door at the weirdest of times and tried to sell you the strangest of things. In any case, he was pretty sure the guy was more embarrassed about the fact that he was using BD as an improvised cover for his downstairs piping, and maybe the half-ripped bathrobe lying pooled around the floor.

“-got captured by _you-”_

Another pointed at Trilla. The Second Sister, of whom had attempted to crash _his_ ship, had spent the past several weeks hunting them like animals, and had done the aforementioned capturing, simply crossed her arms and stared at him with a look that suggested she was about _this close_ to pulling her belt - assuming she had one - off, snapping it like a whip and assuming a stance that all but said _go ahead, make my day._

“-and then _you two_ dragged me into a rescue attempt-”

Merrin ignored Greez entirely. She was entirely too focused on Cal’s body, and the look in her eyes suggested that if it wasn’t for the giant Inquisitor sized elephant in the room, she would’ve been hard at work repopulating the Nightsisters with Cal. As it was, she had to content herself with eye-fucking Cal, while somehow maintaining that prim and proper pose usually reserved for creepy witches who could summon zombies and fill your brain with nightmares with a snap of her fingers. Really, Greez was impressed she wasn’t drooling, the way she was metaphorically boring a hole into Cal with her eyes. He bet the reason she hadn’t said a word was because her mouth was watering in a way he’d never seen her do at the dinner table.

“-and it turns out that _you_ were defecting anyways and Darth fucking Vader himself kicked you out of the Empire so you could do so-”

Cere sighed. “Yes, Greez, that’s what happened.” She said, voice sounding rather exhausted. “It’s a Force-given miracle, one we took advantage of.” A hand gestured at Trilla. “And that’s why we have her on board. She can’t go back to the Empire, and I sure as hell am not gonna let her down again.”

“Not like you can go any further.” Trilla muttered lowly.

“Trilla-” Went Cere. “-nothing I can say or do will ever make up for how I failed you and the younglings I swore to protect. I was weak, I was selfish, and...” For a moment, the Jedi Master considered reaching out towards her former charge, then decided against it, mostly because of the fact Trilla’s hand was still hovering close to her lightsaber. “...I am sorry. Truly sorry, for subjecting you to all those years of torment because I wasn’t strong enough.”

For a moment, Trilla didn’t move, and neither did anyone else. 

“I’ve carried so much hate for you.” She said, a moment after, her hand moving away from her lightsaber. “I spent so much time dreaming of exacting my revenge upon you. And now that I understand what happened…” In an instant, she crossed the distance- 

-and gave Cere a hug.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you just yet, but...I accept your apology.” She said. “I don’t believe we’ll ever go back to the way we were, but if you want to move forward...I wouldn’t mind giving it a try.” Trilla felt Cere’s arms return the hug a moment afterwards. 

“I think I can work with that.” Her old master said, bringing a ghost of a smile to Trilla’s face.

“...Boo-weep?” 

“Yeah, buddy. I think that means they’re not gonna kill each other.” Said Cal, interrupting the touching moment. “So uh...with that over, can I be excused? I’m kinda underdressed for the occasion and I want a shower.” 

“I’m with the kid. Seeing as imminent violence has been averted, I hereby declare the meeting over.” Greez proclaimed, clapping his hands and immediately vanishing into the ship’s cockpit, no doubt to wipe away the scene of Cal’s naked body from his mind. Cere and Trilla extricated themselves from their hug, and awkwardly segwayed into a conversation in such a low tone that even Cal couldn’t hear. Deciding that it was safe to leave, Cal set BD down and let the droid resume his usual routine. Padding down to the Mantis’ shower, Cal grabbed a towel and a spare change of clothes on the way, and just as he made to head inside, a hand grasped his wrist.

“Cal.” Merrin said, her free hand setting his things down on a nearby rack. “I’m glad you’re safe. After everything that...happened...” The corner of her lips curled into a wry smile. “...I was very worried for you.”

“It’s why you came to rescue me on Trilla’s ship.” Cal surmised, and Merrin nodded. 

“Cere said she would do it alone, but I couldn’t sit idle, so I went with her. And well, you know the rest.” Said the Nightsister, blushing faintly. “Though I should’ve been a bit faster with the restraints, perhaps.” 

“You did seem to be taking your time back there, getting the restraints off.” Cal said, smiling at Merrin’s obvious flush. “Must’ve seen something you liked.”

“I did.” She clipped, returning his amused grin with one of her own. “Very much so.” One of her hands reached out and touched Cal’s chest, lingering just so on it. “Were you a Nightbrother, I would’ve had no other for my mate.”

“...I’m flattered.” Cal said, feeling his back touch the bathroom wall, Merrin advancing on him like a predator who’d cornered her prey - an all too familiar feeling, Cal thought - keeping him firmly in place. “Anyone would be lucky to be chosen by you.” 

“As they should be. As _you_ will be.” Merrin said, and with that, she leaned forward and kissed him.

//

Having called it a day - night, not that time really mattered on a ship in the depths of space - Trilla headed for the bathroom.

She wondered if Cal was done with his shower. If he wasn’t, well, she hoped it was large enough for two, because she was going to rinse off the distinctive tang of sex and Imperial-standard soap with a vengeance. Setting her Inquisitor garb down in a corner, Trilla made her way to the ship’s bathroom, noting the lack of running water - or much of anything, really - and, as she turned the corner, she came face to face-

-with that _tart_ kissing _her_ pet.

 _“Get away from him.”_ Trilla growled, calling upon the Force and seizing Merrin. The expression upon the Nightsister, previously blissful, switched over to fear, and then anger, as her hands glowed green and a burst of energy slammed into Trilla, knocking her over and dislodging her hold. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize he belonged to you. You’ll have to forgive me-” Merrin retorted, as Trilla got to her feet and summoned invisible dynamism to shove the Nightsister into a wall, receiving a bolt of verdant energy to the face in response. “-if I don’t particularly care to recognize your hold upon him.” 

“He is _mine.”_ Trilla said, stalking forward, shaking off the effects of the bolt and grabbing Merrin’s collar, raising a fist just as Merrin lifted a hand - filled with glowing green energy - and held it to her face in threatening fashion. “No one else’s, _mine.”_ She reiterated, as a part of her contemplated summoning her lightsaber, only to be interrupted when Cal - naked as he was - cut in-between the quarreling duo. 

“Hey, hey. I thought we were done with the whole throwing hands thing.” Said a brave - if foolish - redhead. Both women immediately shifted their attention over to Cal, anger and a desire to fight immediately being replaced with base attraction and quizzical confusion. 

“And exactly how do you propose we come to an accord?” Trilla asked, her grip on Merrin tightening slightly - and the glowing hand came a bit closer in return - raising an eyebrow. “From the way I see it, only one or the other of us can have her, and you know very well which one you should pick.”

“Ah, well, uh…” Began Cal, the naked man somehow coming up with what looked like a really, really super hard thinking face as he stared at them. A second later, when Trilla was pretty sure violence was going to break out whether Cal liked it or not, the redhead finished his long-standing sentence. “...there’s more than enough of me to go around.”

And with that, he put on a smile.

It was not a charming smile, or even a seductive one, but rather, the kind of smile that suggested _please don’t kill each other while I’m standing right in the firing line_ whilst also suggesting _please pick this solution, it’ll make everyone happy._ Trilla had to admit, she wouldn’t have thought of it, well, maybe she would’ve, after Merrin was in the med-bay or dead or something. A moment later, Merrin cut in.

“On Dathomir, a particularly coveted Nightbrother would’ve been considered a shared resource.” She said, in a tone that suggested this was a fact, and not a superstition made up by horny teenagers who spent too much time wondering _exactly_ what a planet full of half-naked witches did all day. “In the customs of my people, it was not surprising to see a Nightbrother have as many as eight or nine Mistresses, each taking what they wanted from him, so long as it did not damage him in any fashion deemed permanent.”

“Yeah, what she said.” Cal interjected.

“You want us to _share_ you?” Trilla said, brain finally catching up with present events.

“Seems like the best option to avoid you two killing each other. That and uh, I don’t really wanna have to decide between you two. It’d be bad for my personal health.” Cal quipped. Merrin and Trilla turned back towards each other, sharing an unspoken conversation as they glanced at each other, then Cal, and then back again. Slowly, Merrin lowered her glowing hand, energy dissipating, and Trilla, in turn, released the Nightsister. Cal blinked, and, because he wasn’t particularly versed in those things we call _moments,_ he spoke.

“So...am I to take this as a yes?”

//

With a thud, Cal found himself slammed onto his bed.

A moment after, Trilla landed on top of him, grabbing him and kissing him fiercely. The bed rocked slightly as she groped at him, grasping his cock and coaxing it to full attention before Merrin joined them, pushing Trilla off of him - gently, because cooperation was the name of the game now, or something like that - and taking her own turn at kissing Cal, properly, this time. As Cal noted, Merrin was different than Trilla. Where Trilla _took,_ and forcefully so, Merrin _coaxed._ She’d still get what she wanted, but she was slightly nicer about it.

“You are a terrible kisser.” Merrin mused, a moment after she broke away, noting the slight flush that appeared on Cal’s face. “Fortunately, that can be rectified.”

“Under my tutelage.” Trilla said, turning towards Merrin. “Watch and learn, pet.” She said, and, grasping Merrin’s face, Trilla went in for a kiss, slamming her lips against the Nightsister. Merrin gave as good as she got, it seemed, as she matched force for force, knocking Trilla off balance as she met the former Inquisitor’s kiss with one of her own. Going for her clothes - given that Merrin was the only one still wearing anything, Trilla found a spot and _pulled,_ causing the fabric to tear.

“Hey, that is a very precious garment-” Began an indignant Nightsister, only for Trilla to continue disassembling her clothes with little care, slamming her lips back into Merrin’s. Within a few moments, the Nightsister was kneeling within the ruins of her clothes, naked as the rest of them. 

“And exactly how do you propose to fuck Cal through them?” Trilla teased, as she turned back towards the redhead, who was staring up at them, breathing heavily. His eyes were wide, his cock hard, and Trilla found herself licking her lips hungrily. “Excited, are you?” 

“Yes, god, yes.” Cal said.

“Well, in that case, I think we should attend to him, shouldn’t we, Merrin?” Trilla asked, receiving a nod in response. Grasping the Nightsister, Trilla guided Merrin until she was above Cal, ready to sink down on his cock. Taking a spot behind her, Trilla wrapped her arms about Merrin’s hips and leaned close to her, pressing herself into the Nightsister’s back. “You go first, Mer.” She said, the nickname foreign to her mouth. “Give Cal a taste of Nightsister.” 

A moment after, Merrin obeyed, sliding down onto Cal’s length with the kind of skill that suggested she had done this before. Trilla pushed the instinctive question out of her mind as Merrin began rocking her hips, leaning down and kissing the redhead lying beneath them both. Soft, wet little noises echoed through the air as Merrin kissed Cal, bounced gently atop his cock. She moved with quiet, self-assured power, not so much taking from Cal as she was coaxing him to give her what she wanted.

It _almost_ made Trilla jealous.

“Mm...you are far more skilled than the Nightbrothers who came before you.” Merrin said, catching the attention of both Cal and Trilla. “They were such terrible bedmates. Inconsiderate lovers, all take and no give.” A look of distaste flared briefly across Merrin’s face, and then returned to a more appropriate face for a woman being fucked. “You are so much better than them.”

“Well, I haven’t really had much practice-” Cal said.

“You are still leagues above them.” Merrin quipped. “And you will get much in the days to come.” She rocked her hips for emphasis, drawing another moan out of Cal. Behind her, Trilla’s hands moved upwards and began to toy with her breasts. The ex-Inquisitor was growing a bit more comfortable, it seemed, if that - and the kiss to her neck - were any indication. 

“I do hope you intend on ensuring he gets practice from us both.” Trilla said. “I’ll not have you take the lion’s share.” 

“You have partaken in Cal multiple times, from what I can gather, so fair’s fair.” Merrin responded, as Trilla pressed a kiss to her cheek, letting the Nightsister see the dangerous glint in her eyes. “But seeing as he’s a _shared_ resource, I’ll certainly hand the reins over to you after I’ve evened the score.”

“Score?” Trilla asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes…” Drawled Merrin. “...after all, Cal's children grow within you, it’s only fair if I get to bear some of my own.” She turned back towards Cal, running a finger along his chest in an appreciative fashion. “Even now, so early in her bearing, I can sense that you’ve given Trilla such a wonderful gift.” She went, smiling fondly at the redhead. “You will do what the Nightbrothers could not-” A kiss punctuated her words. “-and fill me with children.”

“Uh…” Cal began. “...don’t I get a say in this?”

“No.” Chorused Merrin and Trilla.

“Well I guess this is one way to rebuild the Jedi Order…” The redhead mumbled, right before Merrin kissed him again. She held the kiss for an inordinately long time, the sensation of her lips on his accentuating the feeling of her bouncing on his cock, before Trilla pulled her back.

“Hey, don’t hog.” She said, sliding around and pressing a kiss to Cal’s lips. It drew a moan out of him, and she took a moment out of her time to caress his face. “You being a good boy for Mistress Merrin?” She asked, and he nodded. “That pleases me, pet.” Turning back towards Merrin, Trilla indulged herself, pressing a kiss to her lips. “How does he perform?” 

“He does well...” Merrin moaned, as Trilla tilted the Nightsister’s head in her direction and kissed her again, making sure to let Cal get a _very_ good look. “...for a novice. He needs tutelage. A lot of it.” 

Trilla smirked, an amused huff emanating from her. “We’ll teach him everything he needs to please us, won’t we?” 

“We will, perhaps a bit sooner than expected-” Merrin said, giving her another kiss. “-because Cal is about to cum.”

Trilla turned on Cal almost immediately, eyes glinting with what seemed to be predatory exasperation. “Is this true?” She asked. “Answer me, pet.”

Cal nodded. “I- yeah.” He finished lamely.

Trilla sighed. “I had hoped you would’ve learned at least a bit of endurance during our time together-” 

“...it’s okay.” Merrin soothed. “I don’t mind him giving me his seed so early.” She leaned down, pressing a finger to Cal’s lips. “You will give me such strong children, this I know. The sooner, the better, I say.” Replacing her finger with her lips, Merrin took note of the submissive look in Cal’s eyes, and found herself smiling at it. He was so close, seconds remained before he gave in, maybe, if she really cared to keep time. “Give me your seed, Cal. Sire a strong bloodline with me.” 

And he did exactly that.

Watching as her pet gave in and came, Trilla hummed, tightening her grip on Merrin as the other woman trembled, moaning as Cal filled her. “That’s it, pet.” She murmured, pressing a kiss to Merrin’s cheek. “Give your Mistress what she wants. Your seed, your _kids,_ just like you did for me.” A hand slipped down and touched Merrin’s stomach, fingers lingering just so, the implication obvious. “Give your Mistress the gift of motherhood.”

Cal moaned, long and loud - a sound that was music to the ears of both women - as he fully submitted, letting Merrin take the lead. She was all too happy to do so, riding Cal, gently coaxing him to fill her. Merrin let a soft moan tumble from her lips, reveling in the sensation of Cal’s cock, the sensation of warmth inside of her as he spilled his seed into her. Even now, she could sense the threads of life being pulled together with every passing moment, with every twitch of his cock and every rope of cum that spilled into her. Soon, those threads would form something beautiful, something amazing…

...Merrin cried out as she lost herself to her own climax.

//

“Good boy.” 

Kissing Cal’s cheek, Trilla praised her pet. He was exhausted, of course, but he preened a bit at the praise. Merrin slid off of Cal, a sated look dancing in her eyes. Leaning upwards, Trilla pressed a kiss to Merrin’s lips. “Enjoyed yourself?”

“Very.” Said Merrin. “I’m certainly looking forward to a second round...though I believe it is your turn?”

Trilla smirked and turned back towards Cal. “It is, yes.” She said, reaching down to stroke Cal’s cock, releasing a pleased hum as his length began to harden once more. “Ready to please me, pet?”

“Y-yeah?” Said the redhead.

“Good-” Trilla began, as Merrin slid beside Cal, pulled him into her arms, and motioned for Trilla to climb atop him. 

“-you didn’t really have a choice, anyways.”

//

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'cause Trilla and Merrin are never gonna give Cal up, never gonna let him down, never gonna run around and desert him, they're never gonna make him cry, never gonna say goodbye, never gonna tell a lie and hurt him...


End file.
